Paradigm Shift
by Kahlann
Summary: Dudley is a wizard. Vernon doesn't accept it, so Duddy and his mum are forced to leave. Side fic to Han.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property.

**Prelude **

Harry Potter, six years old, awoke with a start. Aunt Petunia was punching his cupboard's door violently, telling him if he didn't got up his lazy self and made a great breakfast for Dudley's birthday, he would not be allowed to eat.

His stomach complaining at the thought, he put up his glasses and did quickly as he was said. Carefully avoiding to get burned (he was still a little too small and couldn't quite see what he was doing) he managed to make some good-looking eggs and bacon. He then served Dudley, his uncle and aunt, and got a little piece to himself, getting a disapproving look from Aunt Petunia.

But she said nothing, getting all Dudley's presents together.

With a wide smile, he slowly opened them all, then he counted.

"That's ten, isn't it mum? he asked"

"No, son, there are fourteen. Are you pleased?"

"Yes, fourteen is good mummy. But… where's my computer?"

"A computer, dear?"

"Yes! I told you I _wanted_ one. And you didn't got me any! "

" I'm sorry, son, Vernon replied anxiously. You know this client I lost because of this.. _freak?_ Well, because of that my society isn't very wealthy right now and we couldn't afford to get you a computer yet… maybe next year?"

"So I have to pay for _his abnormality_? Dudley replied angrily, staring at Harry. No! I want a computer, and I want it NOW!"

Just as he screamed the last word, the entire kitchen seemed to explode, and in the meantime, something appeared. A big, enormous wrapped present lying on the floor.

Vernon Dursley stared blankly as his _son_ let out a happy cheer and jumped to open up his present, discovering a last-generation computer. Then, he looked at his nephew who seemed bloody terrified, wide-eyed. Then, reality stroke him hard.

His nephew wasn't the only freak in the house.


	2. Decisions

**Paradigm Shift**

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything Harry Potter related. This is a fic mirror to Han (another fic I write) from Dudley's and Pétunia's point of view. Enjoy!

**Chapter one: decisions**

And he knew how to deal with freaks.

Grapping his son's arm hard, he throw the terrified child in the cupboard under the stairs and left the house without a word. One minute later, Petunia heard his car leaving.

She knew she had to act quickly, before he returned. The look on her husband's eyes when he stared at their son had been unmistakable. That was the look he usually reserved for Potter. A look of utterly disgust and loathing. A hating glare.

She had nothing against the way Vernon dealt with Harry. The boy was nothing but a nuisance and he got what he deserved. But her son? Her unique child? She couldn't let Vernon hurt her Duddyckins.

So she left. It was an impulsive decision, but she knew it to be a good one. As soon as the car's sound faded away, she stood, made hurriedly her way to her bedroom and began to pack as much as possible, leaving a lost Harry in the kitchen. Then, she packed a few things for Dudley as well, took him, and left without a word.

A few minutes later, changing her mind, she went back to the house and wrote a note for her husband to find. Then, she turned to Harry and said:

"I know I said I would take care of you but I can't. Dudley and I are leaving because I can't stand Vernon hurting him. If you have any brain at all you won't wait for your uncle to come back and put it all on you. Bye."

Meanwhile, Dudley Dursley sat confused into his mother's car. Thus far, his home-life had been very simple: when his father or mother were pleased, it was because of him. When they were angry, it was because of the freak Potter.

Furthermore, everything Potter did was bad. Everything Dudley did was good. For example, if Potter were to sit on the couch and watch the telly (something he never did of course), he was a lazy-good-for-nothing boy. When Dudley himself did, he was a being a good and well-behaving boy.

But not this morning. This morning, his father had been angry with _him. _He had been as angry as the times when Potter did weird things, _magic_ things. He had done magic too, he knew it.

He had wished very hard for a computer and it had appeared right in front of him. He thought his father would be proud of him. But his father had_ yelled at him. _On his birthday!

And then he left, and his mother had took him and an awful lot of things (but not his beautiful computer, witch was still on the kitchen's floor) and told him to stay on the car.

She returned five minutes later and without a word, she boot up the car and drove faster than ever. And when he asked her where they were going and if they could go back because he didn't want to go anywhere without his new wonderful computer, she told him to _'shut the hell up!'_.

That was the weirdest thing of all. His mother never ever swore, at least in front of him, and certainly not to tell him not to speak. He was confused. But he didn't dare open his mouth again.

He awoke the next morning as the sunlight filled the little bedroom they were in. Opening his eyes, it took him a while to remember why he was in this unfamiliar room and not at home.

Everything was so clean and impersonal that even if Dudley had never been particularly bright, he immediately understood that they were in a mansion.

Of course he had already been in some, every time the Dursley family went in holidays, but it wasn't anything like then. Holidays with his dad were always planned months in advance, in a warm and sunny place, and they stayed at the nicer and most expensive hotel there was.

Here… It was different. It was a little room with just two small beds, a blue desk and a large window. A door in the opposite wall probably led to the bathroom, and another door was the exit.

His mother was filling some paperwork at the desk, unaware that he wasn't asleep anymore. He moved the covers to get up and his mum turned her head to greet him.

"Good morning Duddyckins! Did you sleep well?

Yes mummy. Where are we?

In a small hotel in London. We'll stay here for a while. The owner is an old friend of mine. She offered me a job.

A job? But mum, you don't work. Dad works and you spend his money with me.

Not anymore. I'm sorry Duddy, but you won't see your dad anymore. I'll explain when you're older okay?

Mum are you _crying?_

No, I'm not. Everything's fine. Now please be a good boy. Have a shower, get dressed and then we'll have breakfast. Then we'll go find you a new school."

He did, and when he returned, the paperwork wasn't anywhere in sight. Instead, there was food, brought from the kitchen from his mother. Apparently, as his mother was a maid there, they couldn't go eat at the restaurant like the other guests. They had to eat up there in their small room instead.

Confused by his mother's explanations but not wanted to ask more as it seemed to upset her, he ate in silence.

Then, his mother took his hand and brought him to his new school. It was a bigger school than the one in Surrey. And the children here looked at him with loathe in their eyes.

To them, he was the new one, a big fat blond-haired boy who wasn't very bright at school. In this school, he wasn't a popular and frightening bully. Day after day here, he took a taste of his own medicine…

A new routine began to settle in. When he woke up, his mum was already working. His cold breakfast was awaiting on the table, alongside with his pocket lunch.

He showered and dressed alone, then went by foot to school. There, he tried his best to appear insensitive and unhurt by his schoolmates' behaviour towards him (or tried anyway, but sometimes the bullies were found with strange coloured hair or big unnatural pimples on the nose).

And for once, he tried his best at school and by the end of the year he was ready to pass in CP, and knew how to spell and write his name, something he had never managed or cared to do before.

When he returned home, he had tea with his mother and they chatted a lot about his day's school or her day's work. She seemed happy with her new job because it gave her an opportunity to spy the hotel's customers.

One day, not long after they arrived, the policemen came to interrogate them about the day they left their house. Dudley learned that apparently Potter was dead, killed by his dad, and that he would be put in jail for twenty years. When he asked his mum if he could go and see him, she got upset and refused at once. He didn't dare ask her again.

The school year ended a few days later and the routine changed. Dudley was bored. His mum worked an awful lot of time (or so it seemed to him) and couldn't be always there for him when he wanted. And he didn't have any friends to go out with.

And his dad was… no. He didn't want to think about his daddy. His mum didn't want to talk about it, so he still didn't know why on earth his father would have killed Potter. He sure didn't like the other boy, but he kind of missed him.

He had never been so alone before. When his father worked, his mum was always home to take care of him. He had lots of friends, and the telly (they couldn't have one here, not yet anyway), and Harry to bully (that was fun), and his computer… here he had nothing.

He hated having nothing to do, because it made him think too much. About why could his dad possibly wanted to kill his cousin. About why his mother didn't want him to go visit his dad. Sure, he was a murderer now, but come on, he had only killed Potter, the most worthless brat in the entire world, so it shouldn't matter that much, should it?

And it surely shouldn't matter so much to his mum that she didn't even want him to go visit! He was still his father! And he wanted to see him. And if his mum wouldn't take him, he would have to go alone.

Yes. That was it! He just had to go and visit him!


	3. Disappointment

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter's universe. Paradigm Shift is a side story to my other fic, Han, but it can be read independently.

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**Chapter two: disappointment**

The next day, instead of sleeping in, he got up as soon as his mother left for work. Quickly dressed, he picked up a peace of bread to eat on the way and left the house. He knew exactly where to go, having spent countless hours planning this before actually daring to do it.

He walked for about half an hour before arriving in front of a stern-looking building, with high grey walls and tiny windows. It didn't look very welcoming to the seven year old Dudley, and the guard posted in front of the door didn't seem very forthcoming. He didn't even looked at the scared boy when he approached, and appeared fully concentrated on his cigarette. But Dudley hadn't come this far for nothing, so he politely asked him:

"Excuse me sir, but I would like to see my daddy who's in prison."

The guard finally looked at him with a smirk and blew smoke right on his face, before saying:

"And what's your father's name, kid?"

"Dursley, sir. Vernon Dursley."

The man looked at him from head to toes, and his smirk grew wider while he observed:

"Yeah, I should have noticed. You're your father's son, ain't you boy?"

Dudley, not liking his tone, wisely decided not to answer. The man frowned, and asked:

"Came alone, didn't yeh? I'm not supposed to open the door for small kids, y'know. Can't have them traumatised… But since you don't seem to be a whiner I'll make an exception… Wait here."

Dudley definitely didn't like his tone of voice, or the smirk firmly planted on the guard's face. He didn't believe the man would make an exception out of generosity for him. No, it seemed like the man _wanted _him to see his father, as if the fact made him laugh.

But since he did want to see his dad, he decided the man's reasons for helping him didn't matter. The man soon returned with another, and they shared a laugh, before Dudley was instructed to follow the second man while the first stayed at the door.

They entered a dark corridors in which there were cells on each side. Dirty-looking men were begging for release in most of them, and the others were making gestures Dudley had only seen in the movies his dad watched, and saying things he didn't quite understand. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Finally they entered a big room where there were tables in front of a glass wall. Dudley was instructed to sit at one of the tables, and to pick up the phone. Then he was left alone, as the man went to bring his dad.

He was both terribly afraid and excited. He was in a dark place, with no one, not even his mum, knowing he was there, surrounded by criminals and men he didn't like at all, but he was finally about to see his dad again! That was more important than anything else.

He waited for what seemed like ages, but was in fact only a few minutes. As he was beginning to lose a patience he never had, his father was brought in the other side of the window. However, he didn't sat in front of him. Instead, as soon as he saw his son, he began to run away! But the guards didn't let him go, and forced him to sit. Dudley watched, bewildered, as Vernon fought to get away, but when it was clear the guards wouldn't let him leave, he picked up the phone to speak to his son. Dudley picked his, relieved, but he was started by his dad's angry voice:

"What the hell are you doing here, freak?"

Biting his lips to avoid crying, he answered bravely:

"I'm here to see you, daddy."

"I'm NOT your daddy, stupid boy! No son of mine could be a freak!"

"But…"

"No buts. I don't want to see you ever again, is that clear boy? Never! Or I'll just kill you with my bare hands, just like I killed the other freak Potter! I swear I will!"

Dudley was afraid. Even if he couldn't bring himself to believe the words his dad said, there was no mistaking his look. Hate. Disgust. That was all his dad felt for him now. He looked away, unable to sustain his dad's gaze, and saw the guards faces. They were smirking, as if congratulating themselves of a good joke they could tell the others later in front of a bier. Suddenly, the young boy felt very sick. He was sick of that place, sick of the situation he was in, and he just wanted to run to his mum.

One last time, he looked up at his dad's face, and what he saw shocked him beyond belief. The man was smiling. Not an encouraging smile, no, a mocking one. The three men were all making fun of him, mocking him for being a freak, for being rejected by his own father. They were smiling at his obvious pain.

He couldn't bear it anymore. He stood up abruptly and ran, towards the way he just came from, and tears were rolling down his cheeks as he did so. On his way to the door, he could hear the other prisoners laughing. He opened the door, and the outside guard openly laughed upon seeing his teary face. Dudley didn't even look at him, he ran away. He didn't even care where he was going, as long as it was far away from this place.

He ran for what seemed like hours, until he was dead tired, too tired to be in that much pain anymore. He stopped, his breath racing, his legs and feet hurting, and he fell down on his knees and cried.

And cried. And cried. And sobbed. And whined.

Then, when he didn't have any tears left, he felt empty, but somehow relieved. He looked up, and saw he was in a dead-end between two buildings, not very far from home. The thought gave him some courage, and he stood up, fully intending to go straight away to his mum for comfort.

As he made his way out of the dead end, though, two evil-looking men suddenly came in front of him, blocking the way out.

"Hey little boy, what yer doing here all alone?" one of them said with a false smooth voice.

Dudley clenched his teeth. His mum had warned him about adult bullies who attacked children, and he had a feeling those two didn't want to help him. He'd had enough. There was only so much one could take in a bad day, and he had reached his limit earlier. His breathing hard, his heart racing, he was about to try to fight those two giants, or run past them, or just scream, he didn't know which, when something weird happened. Later he figured it was the wind, but he couldn't fully believe the wind had anything to do about it.

The men went flying into the wall. Dudley didn't took the time to think about it. He ran straight away home. On his way, he had to avoid three cars, two bikes and many walking people, but he didn't care, he just wanted to be safe, to be home, to be with his mum.

When he arrived, his mum was reading a magazine. She looked up, smiled upon seeing him, then frowned.

"Where have you been?" she asked, then, before he had any time to answer, she added:

"You're panting! What were you doing?"

Seeing the concern in her face, he found he couldn't tell her about his da- Vernon. She would be disappointed if she knew he had gone to see him, as she had expressively forbidden him to. So he just said:

"I was jogging, mummy. At school the others said I should lose weight!"

Which was true. They had. Just not as nicely as he had put him for his mum. They just mocked him for being fat.

"Alone? In the streets? Running? Are you mad? Look, if you really want to lose weight, I'll bring you to the park twice a week to run, okay? Just don't go on your own. Mummy was worried."

"Okay mum."

"Good. Now, how about some orange juice and biscuits? You look like you need it."

"Cool!"

He smiled. His mum was great. Who needed a father when they had Petunia Evans as a mother?

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